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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27226834">The Marquess</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0'>TheTimelessChild0</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Omovember 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Desperation, Embarrassment, Friendship, Humor, Omovember 1, Omovember 2020, Urination, formal situation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:02:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27226834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things beyond even the Great Detective's realm of expertise.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Omovember 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Marquess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>day 1- formal setting</p><p> </p><p>Yes, you read the tags correctly. No, I am not just doing "a few". I'm doing... all. of. them.</p><p> </p><p>THAT'S RIGHT, BITCHES!!! I'm doing Omovember!</p><p>brain cell 1: <i>this is a terrible idea</i></p><p>brain cell 2: shut up, we're doing this.</p><p>brain cell 3: <i>this is a mistake</i></p><p>brain cell 2: it's too late. we can't back out now. (especially since I've written the first 5 already and I am not letting them go to waste)</p><p> </p><p>ENJOY.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To say that Enola’s detective business was sailing smoothly, would be putting it lightly. Her masterful solve of the case involving the murder and <em> repetitive </em> attempted murder, of 2 Marquesses of Basilwether, spread like wildfire among the gentry. So naturally, it only took but a few months for the duo to be invited to a banquet with the Queen. She’d taken quite a shining to Enola of course, certainly after Sherlock introduced her as <em> his </em> younger sister; as well as before. Lord Tewkesbury, on the other hand...When word hit her ears of his rendezvous with Miss Holmes, Victoria immediately asked what he did in his spare time. Knowing her husband’s knack for the natural sciences, he replied, “botanical studies and gymnastics. I built my own treehouse,” without blinking. She hummed, as if confirming a suspicion, rubbing her glove against his ears. “No wonder they’re so mucky, then,” her Majesty told him off sharply.</p><p> </p><p>The guests behind him laughed. So did Enola. <em> Definitely not a man now </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we send <em> him </em> to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School? I can’t help thinking it <em> might </em> be beneficial,” Mycroft noted, shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>“And here you thought Eudoria was the only woman in England to raise her child liberally,” Sherlock quipped with a chuckle.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They sat down, and the meal progressed swiftly. At least it did, according to the Holmes <em> boys </em> . They had to take turns asking Enola to chew at least ten times before swallowing. Meanwhile, Tewkesbury felt as if they had been there for days. He shifted in his seat in such a manner that required him to also <em> nudge </em> the chair closer to the table. It was just an inch, but Enola heard and gazed in his direction.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you need a bigger chair to fit your ego?” she snarked.</p><p><br/>
“Do you need a smaller one to fit your sense of humour?” the Lord countered.</p><p> </p><p>“How exactly does one measure a sense of humour? In the amount of small hairs falling off of moustaches?” Enola suggested.</p><p> </p><p>This disproved his point. Which was a problem. The second a chortle escaped his vocal chord, his thighs tensed. Tewkesbury made a fist with his right hand and stroked his left thigh with the left.</p><p> </p><p>Enola smiled before she spotted the movement. </p><p> </p><p>”What’s the matter?” She asked straight up.</p><p> </p><p>”Nothing, it's trivial at best. It's merely the fact that I've spent enough time this week sitting flat on my arse,” he told her, straightening up in his seat and taking a sip of champagne, swallowing slowly.</p><p> </p><p>The language ruffled her oldest brother to the point of him nearly spitting out his own drink. The fuzzy caterpillar adorning his upper lip twitched, loosening a few hairs. </p><p><br/>
“I’d say that’s at least a 5 out of 10,” Enola noted. </p><p> </p><p>“What is? My answer, or the fact Mycroft is currently drinking his own moustache?” the Marquess quipped. Holmes got wide eyes once more, having no choice but to spit the fluid into his napkin, glaring at the adolescents from across the table.</p><p> </p><p>Enola wasn’t fooled by his redirect, of course. She knew bloody well it was complete and utter <em> bollocks </em>. He seemed to be in pain, yet confident enough to cover it up entirely. It was a true mystery and no mistake.</p><p> </p><p>The first clue was his hands. He was fidgeting with the napkins and silverware, occasionally using them to make a fist. And that wasn’t the only muscle that was being tensed. She found his thighs tensing and relaxing. Whenever the thighs were relaxed, Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether moved around in his seat, until they stiffened again. The shuffling was subtle, but visible nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>Then, it stilled. Her eyes followed his knees and reached the ground. The lord had crossed his shins and tucked them under his chair. She frowned. <em> I am going to need help</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She threw Dash under the table, making it hit her second oldest brother on the foot. </p><p> </p><p>“Ow!” he picked it up and handed it to her. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t swing that around at the table please,” Sherlock requested. His eyes caught Tewkesbury’s disposition immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?” he checked more accurately.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Just...little too much to drink,” the Marquess lied. </p><p> </p><p>Enola gasped silently. Then she smirked. <em> Oh. </em></p><p> </p><p>It made sense, he’d practically drank his body weight, especially since his bladder capacity was at least an ounce less than his Housemates. </p><p> </p><p>“If you need some fresh air, just leave your cutlery like it is. It signals to the waitstaff you’re not finished. No one will spot you leaving among a thousand guests,” Sherlock assured him. </p><p> </p><p>It was an unnecessary assurance. The Lord wasn’t born yesterday, rather 20 yesteryears. Even the lords had to put the <em> Privy </em> in ‘Privy Council’, occasionally. The main issue concerned <em>locating</em> the lavatory.</p><p> </p><p>”I should hope not, ” Tewkesbury muttered. ”But, you see, that's not it, ” he stated.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock frowned. The Viscount took out his notepad, scribbled something on it, and dropped it in front of Holmes. </p><p> </p><p>On the note was inscribed the following four words; <em> Where is the lavatory? </em></p><p> </p><p>Sherlock smiled gently in understanding. Needing a bigger surface, he grabbed a napkin and jotted down the directions, handing it to the younger man. </p><p> </p><p>“Cheers. Excuse me,” he replied, putting it in his pocket gratefully and standing up. Mycroft barely glanced up from his plate, waving indifferently while his younger brother nodded once.</p><p> </p><p>Tewkesbury strode off to the water closet.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock was not surprised that his little sister had beat him to the deduction. She had done so in the past, again related to the Marquess. And, she was younger. The youth were less riddled with social sensibilities, and was still casual about matters of the body. She still had the adorable sense of when her friends were uncomfortable, even when, perhaps <em> especially</em>, it was caused by a full bladder. Nature calls birds and blokes alike, after all.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tewkesbury returned, visibly at ease. </p><p><br/>
“Sorry about that,” he muttered awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s no problem, really,” Sherlock assured him.</p><p> </p><p>The meal continued as if it had never been interrupted in the first place; Enola, however, could not contain her amusement.</p><p><br/>
“Nincompoop,” she stated bluntly. </p><p><br/>
“I’m sorry?” the marquess objected politely.</p><p><br/>
“Why didn’t you ask for the loo when we came here?” Ms Holmes challenged.</p><p>“I didn’t need to,” Tewkesbury explained, bemused.</p><p> </p><p>“I believe she is wondering why you didn’t already venture to discover the location of the lavatory upon arrival,” Mycroft corrected dryly.</p><p> </p><p>“I tried to. It’s a big castle. Seeing the queen made me surrender my efforts,” he retold.</p><p> </p><p>Enola raised a pointed eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“I believe she is wondering why you didn’t ask upon the initial sensation,” Sherlock smiled kindly. “And I can postulate an answer to that myself. You were embarrassed. And rationale supports it. Though I will point out, for future’s sake, that the phrase ‘royal <em>we</em>’ does have a supplementary meaning,”</p><p> </p><p>“I will certainly take that into consideration,” the Lord took the advice, noncommittally.</p><p> </p><p>“At least change your posture when you wriggle. Crossing your heels that tight’ll give you an aneurysm,” Enola warned worriedly.</p><p> </p><p>Both male members of the Holmes family laughed, while Tewkesbury began to blush, but then eventually joined in as well.</p><p> </p><p>"Curious. I had no idea dandruff could affect such <em>small</em> hairs," he commented, noticing more sprinkling down into Mycroft's sparkling cider. The man in question looked about, and discreetly dabbed the hairs onto his napkin, chugging down the remains of the beverage with a pointed stare of disapproval at his sister. Alas, some strayed into the wrong pipe, making him cough into a handkerchief. He apologized to his right hand-side, glaring at the incessant immature snickering from the young <em>adults </em>across the table.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock coughed into his armpit, much more quietly. Mycroft rolled his eyes. His younger brother was smirking.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ow! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The younger Holmes gripped his glass, sliding it to the end of the table; and subsequently knocking his brother's cane to the floor. The disruptive rapscallions shared a smile. The rest of the dinner was strictly silent.</p><p> </p><p>The End.</p>
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